swings hear the doors we open each day for each other same "hello, shalom, bonjourno, howdy, namaste or buenos dias" in the language my mother taught me in every language carrying our lives without prejudice as these words a break from my lips one sky since the mississippi were to their way to the scene thank the work of our hands, weaving steel into bridges finishing one more report for the boss on time. did the first brush stroke on a portrait or a last floor on the freedom tower injecting into the sky that yield to our resilience. 01 sky we sometimes lift our eyes tired from work. some days giving thanks for a love that loved you back. some time praising a mother who knew how to give or for giving a father who cannot give what you wanted. we had a home through the loss of rain our way to snow or the palm blush of desk but always a home, always under one sky, our sky, and always one moon like the silent jump tapping on every wolf -- roof top of one country, all of us facing the stars. hope, a new constellation, which in for us to map its. waiting for us to name it together. [applause] >> tha